Something Important
by SherlockedDancer
Summary: Sherlock wants to tell John something important but an accident interrupts him and John is left to figure out what the important thing is that Sherlock needs to tell him. (Sorry I suck at descriptions)
1. Chapter 1

The snow fell softly as John walked down the street, he breathed in the sharpness of the cold air as he continued to walk back to 221B Baker Street. Suddenly he received a text alert, but knowing Sherlock all too well he ignored it. John was almost back to the flat and Sherlock could wait the few minutes it would take for John to get there. Anyways it was probably nothing too important, most likely asking John to do a meaningless task such as retrieving a pen that was laying within inches of Sherlock's reach. John chuckled to himself about the silly detective but found his attention was drawn to bright flashing lights in the street in front of him. He quickened his pace as he noticed that the lights were outside of Baker Street and he began to fear for the worst. As he got closer he caught sight of a dark curly haired man being placed on a stretcher, the all too familiar trench coat being removed by the paramedics. He rushed forward and the scene slowed before him, the flashing lights, the blood stained pavement, and the faint cry of Sherlock's name, which John was surprised to realize was his own voice. He reached for the stretcher but was pushed back by paramedics, they warned him to stay back as they loaded him into the ambulance and all John could do was cry over and over again that he was Sherlock's best friend. They nodded and gave their apologies as they continued to deny John access to Sherlock. Eventually the ambulance pulled away and John was left standing in the blood stained snow, surrounded by policemen and noise, but only feeling silence. He stared down at the ground and found a phone lying in the snow. He picked it up and instantly recognized it as Sherlock's. He put it in his pocket and walked over to the police, deciding that he should find out what had happened. He was informed that Sherlock was struck by a car but the due to the snow the driver was unsure of why Sherlock was standing in the middle of the road. They thought maybe some sort of distraction but so far nothing had been found. They promised John that they would do their best to find out more and John thanked them, unlocking the door to their flat. He walked by Mrs. Hudson who offered tea and biscuits but John just dismissed her with a wave of his hand, slowly trudging up the stairs. He took off his shoes and sat in his arm chair, a sigh filling his entire body. It was unlikely John would be able to get in and see Sherlock tonight so he may as well wait until tomorrow. He removed his jacket and pulled out Sherlock's phone, that's when it struck him. John closed his eyes and pulled out his phone, taking a deep breath as he unlocked it and clicked on Sherlock's message, the message that had caused the accident. No message in the world could be important enough to be hurt the way Sherlock had been.

_We need to discuss something John. I have something important that I have been meaning to tell you for a long time. Come at once if convenient, if inconvenient come anyways–SH_

Although Sherlock sending this text should have upset John, more than anything it struck his curiosity. Why had Sherlock sent this text? It was very unlike him, most his text were meaningless tasks or needing more milk. Was this important thing just the need to run to the grocery store, or was it something more? Either way John definitely needed to talk to Sherlock about this. As he got ready for bed his mind was running a million miles per hour, what could have been so important? Why had he decided to send the text when he did? And most importantly, where was Sherlock going when he sent the text? John barely slept that night and when he awoke in the morning he hurriedly showered, dressed, ate, and ran out the door, heading straight for Barts. Mrs. Hudson called after him but he was way too determined to respond, with a wave of his hand he rushed out of the flat into the cool morning flurries.


	2. Chapter 2

John entered the all too familiar hospital, soaking in the scent of sickness and antiseptic. He headed to a counter where he was given a guest pass and led to the room in which Sherlock was being held.

Sherlock knew as soon as he heard the footsteps, John. He attempted to sit up in bed, excited to finally see someone he knew, but his injuries told him otherwise. He sank back into bed just as a thought hit his mind. 'John doesn't know… John doesn't know what I was going to tell him. John doesn't know why I was hit by a car. John doesn't know why I was leaving our flat.'

This left Sherlock with another problem, 'should I tell John everything? Or should I pretend I remember nothing?'

The seconds leading up to John arrival into Sherlock's room were ticking by faster and faster and Sherlock had a decision to make. He closed his eyes shut tight and searched his mind palace for an answer, hoping somehow there, somewhere in his mind, it would tell him exactly what to do. Time was running out though and soon there was a knock on the door.

Sherlock sighed and grumbled,

"Come in."

John ran straight to Sherlock's bedside, no longer able to hide the fear he had for his friend.

"Dear God Sherlock are you alright? Are you in a lot of pain? Are you going to be okay? Can I do anything for you?"

Sherlock just rolled his eyes in response and smiled at John's concern,

"I'm Fine John, really, there is no need to be so distressed. Why would my well-being matter to you anyhow?

"Oh I don't know Sherlock, because maybe I actually care about you. Maybe because that's what friends do. I would hope if anything happened to me you would feel the same."

Sherlock just smiled and patted an empty spot on the bed next to him,

"Sit."

John eyed the spot suspiciously before finally getting up and walking to the bed. He sat on the edge, careful not to bump Sherlock, and instinctively grabbed Sherlock's hand, caressing it in his own.

"Oh we're getting touchy feely now, are we?" Sherlock teased as he allowed John to stroke his palm.

"I was worried sick Sherlock. What did you think you were doing? Why were you in the middle of the street? Weren't you paying any attention to where you were going?"

With each question John felt Sherlock recoil, his face going from a smile, to a straight face, to a look of pain.

"John I'm sorry. I really didn't mean for all of this to happen but my brain was all over the place. It was thinking about other things and I should have paid more attention. Also that text I sent you, that's what mostly caused the accident. Instead of paying attention to where I was going I sent you that text."

John frowned and continued to stroke Sherlock's hand,

"Well a text message is never important enough to risk your life for."

"That one was", Sherlock whispered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing", Sherlock responded quickly.

"Sherlock I know you said something. Now spit it out."

"I'd rather not talk about it right now."

"Sherlock, that text message. What did it mean?"

"John… Not now… Please."

"Fine, but I expect an explanation as soon as you're feeling better."

John stood from the bed giving Sherlock's hand one last squeeze before walking towards the door.

"I'll be back tomorrow, rest up, and don't get into any trouble."

"Me trouble? Never."

"Of course not. Bye 'Lock"

"Bye John."

Sherlock's brain immediately went to work. ''Lock? Since when has he called me 'Lock? If only he knew the stress he puts on my mind. I hate sentiment, so why am I feeling it? Stupid sentiment is getting in the way of everything.'

'I hate love, it caused my brain to fry, my fingers to send that text, and my body to be hit by that car. If only I understood love.'

'If only I could make it stop, this feeling in my stomach. Why does he make my stomach tingle? Why does he make my brain hurt? Why does he make me feel? Feel love…'


End file.
